"Hi, I'm Feng."
The black-haired boy tilted his head slightly.
Feng's dark blue Jujutsu High Uniform jacket fit neatly against his body. At that slight movement, a few longer strands of black fringe slipped along the contours of his cheeks, partly obscuring the edges of his dark red eyes.
The corners of his mouth lifted gently into a faint but vivid smile.
Feng raised his arm, his cuff sliding down a little to reveal a stretch of cool, pale wrist, and reached forward to clasp the hand hovering in midair.
"Looking forward to getting along with you."
The moment their hands met, the contrast was striking.
Yuji Itadori's hand was broad and sturdy, his palm covered in thin, rough calluses from years of exercise, and his body heat burned like a little furnace. Feng's fingers, meanwhile, were long and fair, with an unusual coolness to the touch.
It was not a lifeless chill, but something like jade soaked in well water in late autumn-a clear, gentle cold that could even soothe the nerves a little.
"Whoa! Your hand's so cool, but it actually feels pretty nice!"
Feeling the temperature against his palm, Yuji Itadori did not pull away. Instead, he casually tightened his grip a little and pumped their joined hands twice.
From up close, the pink-haired boy's gaze settled on Feng's striking face. His eyes widened slightly, his voice brimming with undisguised amazement.
"And you're seriously good-looking! Like an idol straight out of TV! Right, Fushiguro?"
As he spoke, he turned to Megumi Fushiguro for agreement.
Sunlight fell across Itadori's lively face, making his smile especially radiant and sincere. There was no hint of flattery; he was simply expressing his immediate impression.
Suddenly dragged into the conversation, Megumi Fushiguro did not join in the pointless praise.
He walked over to an empty seat in the middle row and pulled out the wooden chair with a soft creak.
"Don't make pointless comparisons like that."
Megumi Fushiguro slipped his hands back into the pockets of his dark uniform, his green eyes sweeping over the two boys still shaking hands by the door.
His gaze lingered for half a second on Feng's admittedly exceptional face, then shifted away as though nothing had happened, changing the subject.
"Since you're here, just take any empty seat.
There was more to that lousy teacher's message-he told us to wait here for him."
A trace of weariness colored Megumi Fushiguro's voice. Clearly, he had some idea of what lay ahead.
"With Feng, there are three of us now. But he also mentioned going to Harajuku.
If I'm right, his supposed trip to buy limited-time pop-up daifuku is really just a stop along the way.
The actual hassle is having the three of us pick up the last new student, who arrived in Tokyo today."
At that, Yuji Itadori immediately released Feng's hand, his excitement at meeting a new classmate turning instantly to curiosity.
He walked back to his seat in a few strides.
"The last new student? So once we pick them up, our first-year class will be complete?"
"In theory, yes. But is Harajuku far from here?"
Feng was somewhat curious. After all, his memories contained little information about this country.
At the question, Megumi Fushiguro braced one hand against the edge of his desk and raised his green eyes, looking over across the classroom's central aisle.
"It's not exactly close. Jujutsu High is deep in the mountains outside Tokyo. We'd have to head down the mountain first, then take a train. Including the walking, it'd take close to an hour."
Megumi Fushiguro's tone remained level, as though he were reciting a dull transit timetable.
"But knowing that lousy teacher, he'll probably have an assistant supervisor waiting for us at the foot of the mountain with a car.
That would be faster."
At the mention of Harajuku, Yuji Itadori, who had been leaning against his desk, suddenly looked as though someone had flipped a switch. His eyes lit up.
He planted both hands on his desktop and leaned far forward, his short pink hair bouncing with the excited movement.
"Harajuku?! The legendary Harajuku, with crepes, talent scouts, and trendy people everywhere? I've been wanting to check it out forever!"
Itadori's voice was full of a country boy's pure longing for the big city. He turned excitedly toward Feng, his eyes sparkling.
"Have you been to Harajuku, Feng? I heard they sell these super-huge ice creams that give off white smoke!"
"Both are possible. That's the answer."
Before the classroom conversation about desserts could go any further, footsteps rang out in the corridor, sounding almost inappropriately jaunty.
Then the wooden shoji door was yanked open with a sharp swish, its panel slamming loudly against the end of the track.
"Ta-da! Sorry for the wait, my adorable students!"
A tall figure swept into the classroom with a wave of sugary fragrance. Satoru Gojo wore his signature black blindfold, the collar of his Jujutsu High Uniform slightly open.
In his right hand was an elegant paper bag bearing the Kikusuian logo, while his left rose into the air for an energetic wave.
Satoru Gojo surveyed the three boys through his blindfold, his mouth stretching into a bold, unrestrained grin.
"Looks like everyone's already gotten acquainted on this lovely morning.
Then let's not waste any time. Your final first-year classmate is waiting lost and bewildered on Tokyo's temptation-filled streets for us to come to the rescue!"
He turned and strode back toward the door, the paper bag of sweets swinging in his hand.
"Let's go! Destination-Harajuku! By the way, Ijichi's been waiting for us at the foot of the mountain for ten minutes already. If we don't hurry, he's going to cry!"
Watching the retreating figure of a man with absolutely no sense of how a teacher ought to behave, Megumi Fushiguro sighed deeply and rubbed his aching temple. He rose from his chair and swung the backpack that had slipped to one side over his shoulder with one hand.
"Let's go. If we keep him waiting too long, who knows what kind of trouble he'll stir up."
Before you continue